


with love

by heathermcnamara



Series: darling, so it goes [3]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, YO I RUSHED THE ENDING BC BROADCHURCH IS ON SORRY ABOUT THAT LADS, also i am so SORRY, ik its unrealistic she made a dress in a night but trixie franklin can do ANYTHING, sequel to two five one !!!!!!, this isn't happy i wish it was, yes u heard it right !!!!! a sequel !!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 21:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10145321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathermcnamara/pseuds/heathermcnamara
Summary: With Barbara's wedding to Tom growing ever closer, there might not be time to think about feelings.(sequel to two, five, one)





	

There are some things that can’t be said with words. There are some conversations that cannot be had face to face, eye to eye, conversations that require the privacy of looking elsewhere. Trixie had used this as an excuse for a long time. Nobody had ever asked, nobody had ever even suspected, but she had used it as an excuse to herself for not saying what she wanted to say, not telling her before it was too late.

Barbara’s engagement had almost seemed unreal to her. One of those facts that is always true, but never acknowledged, never really said aloud. The grass is green, the sky is blue, Barbara is engaged. Engaged was not the same as married. Married would be another thing entirely, married would mean that everything would be different. Maybe, Barbara and Tom not choosing a date had helped this, somehow. No end date- wedding date- meant that there was plenty of time. Only now, there were three weeks left until the wedding. Three weeks left until she had to smile and play the part of the supportive best friend. She was happy for her, she really, honestly was. But every smile and every comment about wedding dresses, or cakes, or venues, dug sharply into her heart.

Barbara had ignored her after the night they kissed. Trixie had hoped, had been stupid enough to even think, that Barbara genuinely returned her feelings. She’d said so, after all, hadn’t she? She had told her that she loved her, that she’d loved her for years. But after that, after Barbara had gone back to her room, Trixie had heard nothing. Barbara had made every excuse not to be alone with Trixie, every excuse to miss out on any plans Trixie wanted to make, every excuse to avoid her in any possible situation. Trixie was beginning to doubt that she had ever had feelings for her in the first place, that maybe what she had said that night was simply invented, something Barbara had said on the spur of the moment. But why? Why risk everything, someone hearing, their jobs, everything, for something that wasn’t real?

She had decided to give Christopher another chance, decided to agree to his date, decided to let him kiss her, decided to kiss him back, decided that maybe this was the best way to get over her. Or to make her jealous, in all honesty, she wasn’t really sure what she was trying to do. But Barbara didn’t react anything but positively to her dates. Well, positive was a bit of reach, really. More like positive’s quite distant, far less interested cousin. Still, she almost wished that Barbara’s smile would have at least a hint of disappointment in it. It never did.

Ever since it had been announced that Tom and Barbara would only have three weeks until their wedding, the entirety of Nonnatus House had been filled with activity, everyone trying their hardest to help with every detail of the day. None had tried harder than Barbara, who was overworking herself with all the tasks she had decided to take on herself, and was refusing help from anyone. Especially Trixie, who she would shut down any offer of help from before she had even finished her sentence.

And that was how Trixie came to find her asleep in the living room at two in the morning. She’d been unable to sleep, had gone to fetch a glass of water, and had noticed that the light was still on, casting a small glow through the tiny crack in the door. Barbara was curled up in an armchair, fast asleep, looking particularly more dishevelled than Trixie had ever seen her before. In front of her, on the table, was an unfinished wedding dress, beautiful swathes of white fabric all scattered and half pinned beneath an old sewing machine. Immediately, Trixie knew what she had to do.

Barbara had left the pattern on the table, and Trixie had always been a far better seamstress than her friend (although, she would never tell her that), so it didn’t take long for her to find out where Barbara had finished, and what was left to do. She didn’t even realise how much time was passing as she stitched, not taking the time to even cast a passing glance at the clock as she worked.

She was thinking about Barbara as she sewed, thinking about how pretty, no, how gorgeous, how stunning, she would look in this dress. How lucky Tom was. This, she had to remind herself, closing her eyes for a moment, willing the tears not to fall (she couldn’t ruin Barbara’s wedding dress, she simply couldn’t), this was what Barbara wanted. Barbara wanted to be with Tom. And Trixie was going to let her go. She just wanted to do one last thing for her best friend, wanted to help her as much as possible, wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams. She deserved it.

Barbara had decided, almost immediately after Trixie had kissed her, that she had to marry Tom. She just had to, there was no way around it, no way out of the engagement, no reasonable excuse for the two of them not to marry. And she did love him, she really, truly did. The love she had for Tom was nowhere near the love she had for Trixie, it never could be, it never would be. That was what scared her. It was one thing to harbour these feelings in secret, quite another to act upon them and to hear that they were not, in fact, unrequited.

Trixie being in love with her had complicated everything. If Trixie had rejected her, had pushed her away, had even turned against her, as awful as that possibility was, at least it would mean there was no hope at all. It was almost certainly easier to love her silently from afar, with no hope of a future with her, than it was to deal with... deal with the truth. So she had avoided her, not wanting to have this conversation, hoping against desperate, desperate hope that Trixie would interpret her silence as disinterest, or even regret.

She had meant every word she had to said to her that night. It was no use now, everything was moving far too fast and the time in which something might be said was drawing to a close. Barbara wondered if maybe she should have said something, should have talked to her, should have at least been honest with her. But instead, she had avoided her, made it impossible for Trixie to be alone with her, kept as far a distance as two people living together could possibly keep, deliberately rearranged everything she did so that she would not be able to have that conversation with Trixie.

She had thought, at first, that there would be time. She could take some time, give herself some space, and then she would be able to discuss matters with Trixie. After all, Tom had said there would be a long engagement, most likely years. Neither of them were rich, and quite fortunately, neither of them were in a rush to get married, either. How wrong she was. In the end, they were given three weeks to organise everything. Three weeks for a wedding was not enough, even with all of Nonnatus House helping the pair. What Barbara really needed, was someone who would organise it. Patsy had offered, but Barbara refused, she had only just lost her father, she was only just back from Hong Kong, only just reunited with Delia. It wouldn't be fair. Patsy had insisted on at least assisting with the invitations, and Barbara, however reluctantly, had agreed. Delia was also out of the question, she was in the middle of her exams, and whilst she was helping in whatever way she could, it was too much to ask of her to organise the entire event. Phyllis was already taking on a large number of jobs, which Barbara was grateful for but what she really wanted was... Trixie. She wanted Trixie. Trixie, with her eye for fashion, and mind for lists. Trixie, who would remember who could be seated together, and who could not be. Trixie, who would doubtless help with the wedding dress, and the bridesmaid's dress, and even source a tiny flower girl dress for little Angela. Trixie, who would somehow manage to fix everything for her.

But she couldn't ask her, not now, not after everything.

She had tried to do as much as she possibly could on her own. She didn't care about it being perfect, didn't care if there weren't hundreds of guests (although, as half her patients were invited, she was beginning to wonder if there might be). All she cared about was that she was getting married to someone that she loved. Even if she had to keep telling herself that. Her wedding dress, once a pattern that she had fallen in love with and had known she just had to make, was beginning to feel as if it was taking over her life. Barbara had never been the greatest when it came to sewing. A button, she could do, some patching, some mending, some darning, she could do all this too. That, however, was about the limit of her skills with a needle. She had tricked herself into believing that with a sewing machine it would be easier, it would be almost no work at all. How wrong she had been.

It had taken her so long to work out how to even operate the machine, that everyone who was not on call had gone to bed, assuming that she would follow them in due course. Barbara, however, had been determined that she would do this herself, that she would not ask Trixie for help, that she would make her own wedding dress, and she would marry Tom, and everything would be just as it should be, just as it was always meant to be. It didn't take long before she was yawning as she attempted to stitch another section, and it wasn't long after that before she was drifting asleep in the armchair, too tired to even fight the drowsiness in her heavy eyelids.

It was the sound of the beads rolling around in their tin that woke her up. The tiny delicate beads that Delia had agreed would look just perfect on her dress. Trixie hadn't been there when that decision had been made, but she was here now, forehead wrinkled in concentration as she individually stitched each bead into place. Mixed in with that concentration was a look of something similar to adoration. Barbara wasn't quite sure, but it made her both happy and sad at the same time, something she wasn't quite used to feeling.

“Trixie?” She asked, her sleepy voice barely raised above a murmur. The girl in question jumped, almost dropping the bead she was holding, turning to face her, an apology ready on her tongue, ready to leave if Barbara asked her to, not wanting to overstay her welcome. Barbara was expecting this, however, and reached out her hand to place it on top of hers, trying to tell her what she wanted to say, without really having to say it. “You- you made my dress...” Suddenly, without warning, tears were welling up in her eyes, ready to spill over at a moment's notice. She realised how hard this must have been for Trixie, how if she was in the same situation, if it was Trixie marrying Tom (as it so nearly could have been), she would not be doing the same for her. She wouldn't be able to watch her marry someone else. And after all she had done, after everything, Trixie still wanted her to be happy, still wanted her to have a nice wedding, still wanted everything to be perfect for her.

Trixie gently laid the dress on the table, moving to wrap her arms around her... her friend? She wasn't sure what to call Barbara anymore, really. “Please don't cry, sweetie. I just... I noticed that your dress wasn't finished, and you looked exhausted and there's only nine days left and I really want to help you, Barbara...” She trailed off, wondering if she'd said too much, wondering if Barbara would suddenly let go of her, suddenly push her away, suddenly say something awful. Instead, Barbara pulled her closer, resting her head on Trixie's shoulder, taking a deep breath, trying not to let the few tears that had fallen turn into a real cry.

“I've been awful, Trix, I really have. I was- I was scared. I didn't want to get your hopes up because... I'm marrying Tom. And it's so soon, too soon. And if I marry him...” Barbara didn't finish her sentence, leaving the words she hadn't said hanging in the air, a dark cloud of unavoidable truth. She started again, wanting to make the words right this time, wanting to say something that wouldn't hurt her, wanting her to smile. “I do love you, Trixie. I really, really do. I love you so much that it scares me, it really does.” At this, she pulled back from the embrace, wanting desperately to see the other girl's reaction, hoping that was the right thing to say.

“I know.” Trixie said, looking away, in a voice that was smaller and quieter than Barbara had ever heard her use before. “I know. If I- if I was in your situation, I would be doing the same thing. And, for- for the record, Barbara Gilbert,” Her voice was shaking now, the tears she had held in earlier becoming a very real possibility, “I love you too. I really, really do.” She managed a smile, one that seemed awfully false to Barbara, but a smile nonetheless. “This is the last thing I can ever give you, isn't it? So, consider this dress made with love.”

 


End file.
